


Talk to Me

by IdolDaydreams



Category: VIXX
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut, cute smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdolDaydreams/pseuds/IdolDaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Up to this point, you’ve always been the one to initiate. It’s not that he doesn’t want you. He makes that abundantly clear with his eager touch, how quick he is to tug at your clothes. It’s only that he’s gotten used to those around him being caught up in the spectacle of his speech. So busy marveling at the murmur of his voice that the message goes ignored."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to Me

Your early relationship is one of adjustments. He adjusts to expressing himself with you, and you adjust to reading him when he can’t. This extends to all things, including physical intimacy. Up to this point, you’ve always been the one to initiate. It’s not that he doesn’t want you. He makes that abundantly clear with his eager touch, how quick he is to tug at your clothes. It’s only that he’s gotten used to those around him being caught up in the spectacle of his speech. So busy marveling at the murmur of his voice that the message goes ignored.

You’ve come to accept your proactive approach as part of this arrangement. So it comes as a surprise when, in bed under the cover of night, Taekwoon curls against your back. His face nestles in the crook of your neck, and lazy, wet kisses form a line on your skin that ends near your pulse.

You reward him with an approving rumble at the back of your throat. “Want something?” you ask, low and quiet. He nods against you. “Tell me.”

“Suck me?” he replies, muffled into your neck.

Your eyebrows arch at the request, but you draw no attention to it. “I can do that.”

Taekwoon shifts away from you. Despite the dark, you find him again easily enough, settling above him on your knees. Your fingertips find the hem of his hooded sweatshirt, slip beneath it. His body is like taffy stretched slightly too long. The gentle swell of lean muscle molds with your touch, tapering into narrow joints. His sweatshirt comes off in one fluid motion, hits the floor with a dull thud.

You lower your hips against his. He’s already half hard beneath you, the pressure drawing a sharp breath. With a grin, you lie flat to his chest, plant a few kisses of your own along the column of his throat. “So excited for me,” you purr beside his ear. “What have you been thinking about, hm?”

Taekwoon’s arms snake around you, keeping you close. “You,” he replies simply.

“Just me? Nothing more specific?” As a sort of punishment for his vagueness, your roll your hips down. “Talk to me.”

Your discipline is met with a frustrated groan. “You’re wearing my shirt. It’s sexy on you.”

You give an encouraging hum, taking a moment to nibble on his earlobe. Again you roll your hips down, the friction now more for your own benefit. Warmth begins to pool between your legs. “You like it?”

His hands slide to your ass, cupping it through the fabric of your underwear. Despite the action, he hesitates, seems unsure. “I thought about pushing it up. So I could watch myself fuck you.”

“That sounds fun,” you drawl, “but we need to turn the lights on for that.”

“That’s okay. I just really want to be sucked now.”

The desperation in his voice makes you chuckle. “I’m sorry. I won’t make you wait.” You pull yourself up onto your elbows, stealing a short, deep kiss from his lips before crawling down out of his grasp. With a bit of help, you pull his sweatpants down and off. Against your word, you pause to brush your parted lips over his hip bones, trace a curved path to his inner thigh. There you suck a bruise into the sensitive flesh.

"You're making me wait," he reminds you, bordering on a whine.

"No, I'm not," you say. "I'm having some fun for myself." You busy yourself with one last bruise before soothing it with your tongue.

The direction of his voice shifts. He seems to have picked his head up. "Turn around some. I'll help." Your thought is confirmed by the sound of his head flopping against the pillow. You do as he says, shuffling until your hips are at his side and well within his reach. Taking his dick in your hand, you begin a slow stroke. It twitches under your touch.

Taekwoon places his hand flat against you, his fingertips at the hem of your shirt. He inches it up this way, palm pressed deep as though memorizing the slope of your back. He stops in the middle at the lowest point, lingers there. When you lick a stripe up the length of his shaft, he exhales a breathy moan. His frustration seems forgotten. Hand sliding back down, his fingers hook into the back of your underwear. He tugs only enough to let it stretch and gather around your thighs.

The anticipation makes your clit throb. You distract yourself by taking him into your mouth. Your lips form a tight seal, and as you begin to suck, another moan falls from him. Small, but noticeable. With nothing to see, you focus on sensations. You close your eyes, feel his heaviness on your tongue. Behind you, Taekwoon parts your folds with two fingers, circles and massages your entrance. You moan around him, try to push back, but he doesn’t give.

He continues until you can hear his every movement, fingertips slick with your excitement. You open your eyes and pull your swelling lips from his dick with a wet pop. You parrot his almost-whine. "You're making me wait."

You hear the grin in his voice. "I'm having some fun for myself."

“Jagi, you’re having all the fun.” You emphasize your point with a firm stroke, twisting at the head.

HIs hum of pleasure is interrupted by a chuckle. You imagine he’s biting his lip, slightly embarrassed. “I guess I am.” With this, he slides both fingers in at once. All the activity you’ve had lately, they meet no resistance. Your mouth falls open at the feeling, and for a moment you forget what you were supposed to be doing. He reminds you when his thumb finds your clit, rubs it in slow circles. Apologetically you run your lips up his shaft before taking him back in.

Before long Taekwoon is thrusting shallow into your mouth, his muscles tense. He’s close. Despite how good his fingers feel, how readily your hips push back against his hand, you find you want more. With a long suck, you pull off again. You turn your head instinctively toward him. “You sure you don’t want to fuck me, baby?” you ask, voice hoarse.

He pauses mid-stroke inside you. “Do you want me to?”

“Please.” It comes out more pleading than it sounded in your head, perhaps to your benefit. 

In the time it takes you to pull your underwear the rest of the way off, he with practiced motions finds a condom in your bedside table. You sit beside him, about to pull off your shirt, but he stops you. He tugs it back down. You smirk, a touch self-satisfied at your discovery.

“Now I know how to get your attention when you’re home,” you say, lying back. You feel his weight shift on the bed. He places a cold pillow in your lap, which you move under your hips.

Again he chuckles, and again you envision him biting his lip. Maybe running his hand over his hair. “You don’t need to do anything for that.” The hint of shyness in his voice, under the circumstances, seems contradictory. That makes it more endearing.

Another shift and you feel his knees between your legs. You hear the sound of a thin wrapper tearing, endure the pause as he rolls the condom on. Your skin, already heated, becomes overwarm. Both his hands settle on you, push your shirt up over your chest. He cups your breasts, kneads them a bit.

“I should have turned the light on anyway, huh?” you say. It’s not really a question.

“Next time,” Taekwoon replies. He positions himself at your entrance, and eases in.

A long groan falls out of you, loud enough to drown out whatever sound he might make. You pull your legs up, and he starts an even pace. He leans over you, trails scorching kisses over your lips and along your jaw. He mimics you when you first began teasing him, speaking low and labored beside your ear. “Is this good?”

It is. It’s so good for only just beginning. Your eyes squeeze shut, and it takes you a moment to respond. “A little harder, baby? I just want you so bad.” His hips begin to snap against yours. A moan is strangled tight in your throat. You swear instead, hooking your arms up around his shoulders. Your walls clench around him, desperate for sensation.

“You sound good like this,” Taekwoon confides to the sweat beading at your shoulder. “When you beg for me.” You shudder at the confession, hold him tighter. Without thinking you press your fingernails into his skin.

In your lustful haze, you have no response - just compliance. You plead with him to go faster, harder, to fuck you. Each time he does, and each time leaves both of you more breathless than the last. Between gasps and moans you tell him how good he feels, how hard he’s going to make you come just for him. How you want him to do the same for you. You beg him to make you come, you’re so close. This pushes him into a punishing rhythm. With a high-pitched swear you pulse around him, bucking your hips to ride it out as long as you can. Your toes curl tight, trembling.

Taekwoon follows just as you come down, pushing you near to oversensitive as his last lazy thrusts leave him spent. You attempt to kiss, but it’s mostly gaping open mouths and uncaught breath.

You lie there for a few minutes, buzzing with endorphins. You move your hand to smooth his hair, find strands glued to his face you can tuck away. “You’re a bad boy just like I thought,” you breathe, roughly a quarter joking. He only laughs in response, and you find yourself laughing too.


End file.
